Maybe I'll Dream
by Sigel Phoenix
Summary: Companion fic to "Warriors Blue." Misao finds herself drawn to follow Aoshi on the night of a certain anniversary.


Still uploading the old stuff ... This here is a companion fic to "Warriors Blue," telling the story from Misao's point of view. Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing -- especially RurouniGochan, thanks for the pointers, as well as the encouragement! I'm glad you're liking these. 

Standard disclaimers apply. Hope you enjoy. 

**Maybe I'll Dream   
by Sigel Phoenix**

It was Okina's garden, but not as it was supposed to be. 

The rose bushes by the dirt path, the ones that they'd had to remove a few months ago because of age and disease, now boasted healthy blooms. Stray petals dislodged themselves and fell, fluttering uncertainly in the air for a moment before fleeing to the earth, like a child seeking safety in the folds of its mother's skirt. The peach tree that had been there for as long as she could remember, spreading its branches maternally over the garden, appeared here as but a young sapling. 

And standing before her, silhouetted by the fiery clouds of the sunset sky ... 

"Hannya-kun?" He was the only thing there that looked as she remembered it -- the same as when she had last seen him, almost ten years ago. The familiar mask guarded his features, but she could see his smile; she could always see his smile, in her mind. 

"Misao-chan," he said, opening his arms welcomingly. She laughed, and ran to her old friend -- 

Ran to him, and through him. And when she turned around, he was far behind her, all the way at the end of the path. 

"Hannya-kun?" she called, following after him; the trail seemed much longer than she remembered. 

He turned back to face her, and she shivered as a sudden wind blew by her. It was not a comforting, familiar wind of the past, but one that sang beautifully and terribly of the future. 

She reached out, seeking understanding, seeking security. He was speaking, she knew, but the words seemed like distant echoes, fading and headed in the wrong direction. Something had changed; she could no longer feel what he was thinking. 

"What ..." 

Shaking her head in confusion, she began to walk toward him. Fallen rose petals swirled around her feet, lost and hopeful. "I can't hear you, Hannya-kun. What are you saying?" 

He tried again, but she could barely hear anything now; and she wondered for a moment if he had even said anything at all. Then, of its own accord, the strange wind changed direction and bore Hannya-kun's words to her ears like gentle messengers. 

"What is love?" 

"Huh?" She must have misheard him again. She tried to catch up to him, but he was still far ahead of her, even though she didn't see him move. Feeling suddenly anxious, she began to run. 

"What is love?" he repeated. The fading sun played strange designs on the contours of his mask. 

And though she knew she heard him right this time, his meaning remained just as enigmatic. She shook her head, holding down frustration. There was something important he was trying to tell her, but she failed to understand it, failed to comprehend the twisting threads of time that teased and whispered, just at the edge of her awareness. "I don't know what you mean," she called desperately. 

"Love is ..." he began, but night fell very quickly, and the encroaching darkness seemed to envelop him. 

She felt a flash of panic as he started to disappear. "Hannya-kun, wait!" 

"Love is ..." 

She reached out, grasping for his hand. "Please!" 

Her hand passed through him. He looked at her lovingly for a moment, but still faded away. 

***

Misao awoke abruptly, both heart and hands reaching for something that was no longer there. 

"What a weird dream," she muttered, her arms falling to her sides. Dreams of her old friends had not been uncommon to her during the year since their deaths, but she couldn't remember any quite as mystifying as that ... or as urgent. 

_What is love?_

"What kind of a silly question is that?" She fell back onto her futon with a sigh. But sleep, it seemed, had abandoned her for the night, and she lay blinking up at the ceiling. She could hear nothing, not even the sounds of nocturnal animals; only the faint ticking of a clock in the hall, which echoed prominently in the quiet house. The rest of the world still nestled itself deep into the still silence of the night. Floating in a shroud of pure nothingness, everything seemed to be suspended from reality, dancing a noncommittal edge between the past and present ... 

It certainly was a strange dream, different from any she'd had before. And yet, instead of dismissing it with the return of coherent wakefulness, the image of Hannya-kun and his cryptic words stuck persistently with her. 

"What is love ..." She tugged thoughtfully at her braid. "What is that supposed to mean?" 

Love ... The thought immediately came to her mind of Aoshi-sama. The two concepts were permanently intertwined, tucked safely in a warm corner of her heart. 

She waited. That hard mouth, whose lips she knew must be soft, she waited for it to smile -- small and sweet, so she would know he felt the same warmth in the corner of his heart ... 

Feeling unusually restless, Misao stood up, kicking the covers off her futon as she did so. The night air shivered against her skin, and she pulled her yukata tighter around herself. 

_If he weren't so stubborn ..._ she thought as she slid her shoji open silently. She doubted it would have compromised Edo Castle's security if he'd cracked a smile during the Bakumatsu. And now there was even less at risk. _Honestly, what is there to be afraid of?_

_It's not like I'm afraid of anything ..._

Not that he completely refused to show any emotion. It was obvious to anyone who had the patience to look how much he cared for those in his charge -- now just his friends, but whom he still watched over with a fierce protectiveness. Misao herself remembered, as a child, being raised by Jiiya and the other Oniwabanshuu ... but Aoshi-sama had always been there in the background, making sure she was happy. 

Such a mode of expression as his, however, was difficult for her to grasp as a young child, and her feelings toward her young Okashira had been largely ambivalent at first. That changed as she came to understand his ways, and eventually she had become inseparable from her Aoshi-sama. 

It was sort of curious, though, how long that attachment -- that love -- had held on. Adolescence had not turned her unconditional acceptance into a jaded frustration. Misao was stubborn, there was no denying it, but even the most stubborn pursuit should have been deterred eventually. 

_So why **don't** I give up?_ she thought as she padded down the hallway. Past Jiiya's room, past Okon's and Omasu's. _Why don't I stop trying to understand him, trying to love him?_ The wood floor was cool beneath her feet, and smooth. 

_Because I couldn't, even if I wanted to._

_Besides,_ she thought wryly, _where else am I going to find a guy who doesn't think being a kunoichi is weird? Or who lets me talk so much? And actually listens, no less._

Her hair had slipped out of her customary braid during the night, and she paused to fix it. She first combed through her ebony tresses with her fingers to loosen the knots, then pulled the dark mass back to begin plaiting it. 

The door that she stood in front of was one she knew well, though there were few instances where she had actually entered it. He was in there asleep right now, breathing deep and even, and not knowing how elegantly the moonlight outlined his features, or how intoxicating his temple incense scent was, or how ... 

_Perfect. That's what he is._

Misao giggled softly to herself, knowing how strangely people would think of a statement like that. Certainly they would agree that Aoshi-sama was intelligent, and handsome. But too cold, they would think of him; too stern, distrustful of others' authority, and probably lacking in charm, as well. 

But he was perfect ... Pausing in her braiding, she laid a hand against the thin paper shoji; he would see her shadow against it, if he had been awake. He was perfectly strong, perfectly protective, perfectly stubborn, perfectly _him ..._

"And now I sound like Okon-san swooning over Hiko Seijuurou," she laughed. 

But it was so easy, so very easy to love him. His smoky gray eyes could pierce with either ice or fire, and awaken the same thrill either way. She loved to be the object of that gaze, loved even more when she was the one to awaken an emotion in it. She had never felt it directly, no, not in the form of an affectionate word or a tender caress; but she was content to stay as she was. There was something in him, ready to share and to receive, something that waited that asked her to wait, as well. 

Then something caught her attention, something out of place in Aoshi-sama's room. The door was slightly open, a bare gap left between the screen door and the wall; carelessness where everything should have been orderly and impenetrable. It was as if someone had entered -- or left -- in haste, and had hurriedly closed it ... 

Her right hand crept towards the gap, the shadow stealing silently behind, as her other hand tightened unconsciously on her half-done braid. Her heartbeat quickened a little, and she wondered why. 

_What is there to be afraid of?_

She doubted he would be angry with her, not if she was only checking on him out of worry. He was never angry with her, not even when she followed him around and talked nonstop for hours, and she was sure that his patience should have run out. There were times, she knew, when he needed to be left alone, and she felt it instinctively. Every other time, however, she would come, and he would not turn her away. 

He was silent. Others might think he was cold, but he was merely silent, and would still feel; she could feel him feeling. If he was in there when she opened the door, he would see her, and he would be silent, but not cold; his eyes piercing, but not angry -- sharp with some other emotion, and if she looked closely enough, perhaps she could put it into words -- 

Swallowing, she pushed open the door. Her hair slid from her grasp as she stood in the doorway for a few moments, blinking, to be sure. 

He was not in there. 

She didn't know why she felt relieved. 

Making her way into the room, she let her eyes roam around in a quick survey of the interior. Everything seemed to be in order, the window shut, his belongings neatly arranged; only the futon was messy. There was something half hidden beneath the crumpled blanket, and she bent down to make out the shadowy form in the dark. 

_Kodachi?_

One of the blades had slid a little way out of the double sheath, and she pushed it back in with a slight rasping noise, her hand lingering on the hilt. Why would Aoshi-sama have picked up his kodachi in the middle of the night? 

Her fingers closed around the hilt, and she hesitated only slightly before pulling the short sword out. Moonlight kissed the blade, sharpened and cleaned but undeniably worn from years of battle. She caught an almost undetectable scent of blood, ingrained through a nearly lifelong participation in that deadly dance he knew so well. His strength she could feel when she held the sword, but also his pain. She knew, if only instinctively, of the sadness Aoshi-sama had experienced in his life, the sadness that had brought the young orphan to the Oniwabanshuu and followed him as he assumed the lonely position of Okashira. Even then, when he had status, and followers -- family -- that sadness had not left him. 

Misao knew some of that sadness, as well. She had been luckier than him, in that she'd always had a family with the Oniwabanshuu; but she still shared the same loneliness, the same longing of waking up after a bad dream and wishing for the scent of a mother to rock her back to sleep. And she, too, shared the pain of losing their friends. 

She thought of Hannya-kun -- Hannya-kun as she remembered him, and Hannya-kun as he had been in her dream that night, urging her toward some unknown purpose. 

_Could it have been tonight?_

Megumi-san, the fight with Himura, that monster Kanryuu Takeda -- what if tonight was the night all that had happened? 

Her grip on the kodachi tightened. He was probably downstairs, in that room they had set aside for the shrine to Hannya-kun, Beshimi, Hyottoko, and Shikijou. Quickly, she resheathed the kodachi and propped them up against the wall before leaving the room, careful to slide the door shut behind her. 

Her yukata failed to stave off the cold of the night, so she made a quick return trip to her room for a blanket, and wrapped it around her body. Making her way back down the hallway, she passed Shiro's and Kuro's rooms, whereupon the hallway branched off in two directions, one leading to the spare rooms they rented out to customers, and the other toward the staircase. 

_I know some of his sadness._ It had bitten painfully at her heart when Kaoru-san told her about the fate of her friends, perhaps only made more acute by the joy she had felt upon finding Aoshi-sama. She had hated herself for feeling that joy, even though she couldn't help it; and she had run back to the Aoiya, hoping to find Jiiya so he could tell her that it was all a lie, that they were really all right ... 

Her train of thought continued, following her footsteps as she had come upon Omasu-san in Jiiya's room and noticed his missing ninja gear, then demanded his location and sprinted toward the meeting place in a desperate race to stop the inevitable. Unbidden, the memory rose in her mind of Jiiya, sprawled on the floor and bleeding from a dozen different places; of Aoshi-sama, and his cold eyes as he ordered her never to show her face to him again ... 

_Yes, I know sadness._

Her hair danced freely behind her as she trotted down the stairs, her feet moving quickly to outrun the memory. It was ironic that she was hurrying to get to Aoshi-sama, that she wanted to help the one that had caused her pain. Because of love, was the only way she could explain it; because of love, she had found it in herself to forgive him. Perhaps it wasn't easy to understand; perhaps it was irrational. But she found no need to make excuses for herself. 

_What is love?_

It was easy for her heart to love him. Because she knew some of his pain. Because she didn't know all of his pain. Because she knew what it was like to smile to protect herself, and because he was someone who needed her to smile for him. Because he made her smile, just by being there ... 

Because he was a thousand things to her. 

Because she was a thousand things to him. 

She began to run. 

She could see him, even before reaching the door. She saw him standing before the shrine, before his friends, remembering the mistakes that he and others had made, and the loneliness that he bore alone. And his eyes, piercing again -- piercing like tiny little daggers in her heart. 

"Aoshi-sama!" 

_Love is ..._

She held him tightly in her arms, as close as she dared. Silently she pressed him against herself, willing away old ghosts and past grief with her presence. 

And for one breathtaking moment, he was holding her back, and she could feel all his desperation, and loneliness, and longing ... 

She wanted to feel it. She wanted to share his pain, even though he didn't want to let her, even though she didn't want to feel anymore pain herself. It was strange -- completely illogical -- that she should love him at all. 

_Love is ..._

_Yes, that's right, Hannya-kun,_ she thought. 

_Love **is.**_

And suddenly he was pushing away from her, stepping blindly away from her, from her embrace. 

"Aoshi-sama?" was all she could say, as she seemed to awaken from the spell she'd been under. She was at a loss, not entirely sure herself what had just happened. She barely remembered when she stopped running; barely remembered as she reached the room and pushed the door open. But it had seemed like forever while she stood in the open doorway. 

He had looked ... broken. 

She had watched as he fell, and _knew_ that she could not let him. She could not let him fall alone ... 

_Did I really do that?_ she thought to herself. No one touched Aoshi-sama that openly, not even her. She knew he wouldn't have been angry, and yet ... _What would have happened if I hadn't let go?_

_What would have happened if he hadn't?_

Misao wasn't afraid, not of pain and not of rejection. But why was she so worried about what she had just done? If she wasn't afraid of those things, why had she been so nervous when she entered his room? 

_Because I was afraid ... he would let me in._

_I love him. I want him to love me._ But if that happened, if he truly opened himself to her ... 

_Things would change._ The careful balance they knew would be different. 

Even now, the past and present tangled within her, memories of her friends and of the simplicity and naivete of childhood in tumult with her anxious desire for womanhood. Finally grasping what she had desired for so long -- after all this time, the prospect was exciting ... and daunting. 

She looked up at him, as if seeking an answer. 

"You should not be up at this hour." His voice was like a whip crack. Even as she was taken aback by the strange coldness in it, she understood why. She had seen him vulnerable, moreso than he had ever allowed her to see. She knew what it felt like to show weakness, and how much she hated it. 

_But ... if I leave now, everything will be the same._

Staying would mean she would force him to uncover that vulnerability, and open up to her -- and she would have to open herself, to him, to them, to all the inherent possibilities. And perhaps ... 

He was asking her to refuse this change. "No," she said, slowly. "I'm not going to leave you alone, Aoshi-sama." _I'm not going to hide from the unknown. This is what I want, what Hannya-kun wanted to tell me._ "I can't." 

She walked toward him, and his eyes flickered for a moment with emotion. Then he said, harshly, "Go, Misao." 

_Don't refuse me. Don't let your pain or your guilt keep you from us._ "It was tonight, wasn't it? That Hannya-kun and the others ..." The words were difficult to say, even now. "That they died. You never told us -- why? Do you _want_ to be alone?" 

_You don't,_ she thought fervently. _I know you don't._

"Why don't you want us with you, Aoshi-sama?" _I want to be with you._ "All of us, we've forgiven you for everything." _I forgive you, don't you see?_ "But you still feel guilty, don't you?" 

He didn't reply. "Because we all miss them, you know. We missed them when they were gone before; but to know that they aren't coming back ..." She wiped her eyes quickly to rid them of the tears that threatened; then hesitated before continuing, "I know you don't believe this. But you aren't alone. We know what you're feeling --" 

"You can't." 

He was like the falling rose petals from her dream, she could see it clearly. Torn from security, lost ... alone. 

"Come on, Aoshi-sama. You're not that different from the rest of us humans," she attempted to smile, then faltered. _He's afraid, too,_ she thought sadly. "Just because you were gone for so long doesn't mean we somehow don't know you anymore." 

_... Right?_

"Time can change people." His voice was soft, almost as if he were apologizing for his fear. 

"No," she said vehemently. _Not like this._ "No, Aoshi-sama. I can't believe that. Even though I haven't seen Hannya-kun, Beshimi, Hyottoko, and Shikijou since I was young, they're still my friends and I still love them. That will never change. Even if I didn't get to be with them in the end, I'll always care about them. I'll know them when I see them again." 

She could always feel them with her; she knew she would be able to, even if she stopped holding onto the past ... 

"And you ..." _We can change. If it's together, it'll be okay._ "For a year, I've gotten to know you again." 

_I loved you before. You're the same man, and I still love you now. I might love you even more ..._

She paused; this was her last chance to keep everything the same. If she said the words, she would make things different. Irrevocably different. 

But he needed to hear the words, needed them so very much right now. And she needed to say them, perhaps almost as much. 

She smiled. "Do you know how much I've fallen in love with you, in that one year?" 

He was surprised; she knew he would be. She had changed things, and neither of them had really expected her to. So it was only natural when he made no reply -- considering what he must have been through that night. And it had never been in Aoshi-sama's nature to deal with emotions so openly. 

_I probably scared him,_ she thought with gentle amusement. "Oyasumi nasai, Aoshi-sama." 

She turned, and the soft smile that had sprouted within her reached her mouth. She felt a strange sort of relief -- in finally telling Aoshi-sama her feelings, she had released her fears. And perhaps, been able to give him some comfort for his loneliness. 

She lay a hand gently over her heart. _And I can wait ..._

Just as she was about to reach the door, a hand grabbed her arm. Before she had time to blink in surprise, she found herself pulled against Aoshi-sama, his arms wrapping themselves around her and his head laying gently atop hers. 

_Or not ...?_

She tried to think rationally, even as her heart pounded deafeningly in her ears. He had to be seeking comfort; that must be it. She reached up to stroke his back, trying not to think about how good he felt to hold. "I know you miss them, Aoshi-sama ... It's okay ..." 

_Don't think about it, Misao. Don't think about him holding you, or about him ... moving, and ... touching your face ..._

She watched him, wide-eyed and wondering. Maybe her first thought hadn't been wrong; it looked like he was going to -- 

_Oh._

She closed her eyes against Aoshi-sama's kiss, letting herself think about nothing but the feeling. Her earlier thoughts about waiting and being mature seemed rather insignificant now, and she concentrated only on kissing him back. His mouth was gentle against hers, and yearning, and she pulled him closer. Pain and fear seemed to fade to the background in the presence of this small wonder. 

She had forgotten about the passage time, but eventually he pulled back, murmuring, "Hannya." Unable to resist, she gave him a pout. 

"Aoshi-sama, you know, it's a real turn-off when you say someone else's name. And Hannya-kun's, no less." 

_... He actually looks embarassed._ "No," he replied, "I just remembered why I came ... what brought me here tonight. Dreams ..." 

"Dreams, huh?" Her smile was a full grin now. "Looks like our friends were busy tonight, because that's what brought me here, too." _I know it was you, Hannya-kun,_ she thought, and laid her head against Aoshi-sama's chest. _Even in the end, you were looking out for me ..._

He led her by the hand toward the shrine, which she'd barely even noticed in the time she had been in the room. There was a smile in his voice as he said, "I believe we should thank them." 

Misao watched Aoshi-sama kneel before the shrine, studying his features affectionately as he prayed. His expression was solemn, but peaceful. 

_Hannya-kun, all of you -- you care about him just as much as I do, don't you?_ A brief smile seemed to flicker over his mouth as she watched. _Thank you for bringing me to him tonight._

Her eyes scanned over the objects arranged on the table of the shrine, picking out those she knew intimately from her own childhood: a bundle of dried flowers she had once used to adorn Hannya-kun's ghoulish mask; the sash she'd always tied over Shikijou's eyes, as she made the big man chase her, laughing as the massive warrior lumbered blindly through the garden after the little girl ... 

_The past is gone. But I can always remember, here ..._

She felt a sudden shiver, and, as if on cue, her eye caught the blanket she had brought, and dropped in the doorway. Feeling suddenly protective, she carried it over to Aoshi-sama and draped it over him, saying, "It's cold. And I'm sure everyone's glad to have you here, but not if you were to get sick." 

She was rewarded when he opened his arms for her. "You don't want to leave?" he asked. 

"Just ... tonight, I want to stay here, with everyone." She brushed his hair gently away from his forehead and kissed the area softly. "The both of us," she murmured, laying his head against her shoulder. 

_Mine._

He was warmth against her, his strong form secure around her own. He relaxed against her body, and his ease was sweeter to her than any words. Content, she fell asleep, and dreamt of the future. 

* * *


End file.
